Two Souls, One Family
by kittenintheden
Summary: A story in four scenes for Reverb 2015. Inspired by art by Kona. Young Maka adores her Papa. She trusts him with her very soul. But when she turns eleven, everything changes. Her soul shatters, and after her mother leaves, she's left picking up the pieces. Then she meets and partners with Soul Eater. But can she learn to trust him? Perhaps she can. A story of redefining family.
1. Family

**A/N: I KNOW I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER. I still exist, I've just had some things go down in life. Long story, doesn't matter. Anyway, this year I decided to participate in the newly-minted Reverb 2015, along with my lovely partner Kona, who drew art for this piece. Enjoy!**

* * *

There weren't many green places near Death City, and Maka wouldn't settle for anything but a green place. Spirit had tried plying her with the Mojave Preserve, and even Death Valley National Park, but his little desert-dweller wouldn't have any of it.

"I want to see a _forest,_ " Maka said, tugging on his black coat.

He bent down to pick up his little pigtailed daughter, slinging her onto his hip. She was getting just a little too big for it, but he never complained.

"Little Angel, don't you remember that pretty wildflower field in Death Valley? Green for miles and miles!"

Maka kicked her feet gently against him. "That's a field. I mean a _forest,_ like the one in _The Last Unicorn_ , or the one in _Where the Wild Things Are_ , or _Tarzan_ , or _Call of the Wild_ -"

"All right, all right, I get it. I should have known better than to teach you to read," Spirit sighed as he walked over the crackled cobblestones of Death City. The sun chuckled overhead and he felt a bead of sweat lace its way past his red hair and down his temple. They could probably do with a change of scenery, after all.

When Maka whined to be put down, he let her, though she immediately laced her hand back into his. The warm glow of pride flickered in him when he looked down at her. His daughter, smartest girl in her primary studies class and only a few lessons behind young Black Star in practical training. Spirit grit his teeth. That little blue-haired twerp. Six years old or not, the kid got on his nerves. If he weren't so fond of Sid, he'd have put the hyperactive ball of kinetic energy in an extended time-out ages ago. No one showed up his Maka, especially when she got a shine in her eye.

He felt a tug on his hand and turned to find that same shine trained firmly on the front window of Death Robbins, where a pair of kids licked around large ice cream cones.

With a smile, Spirit said, "You still like strawberry this week?"

Maka wrinkled her nose and shook her head hard enough to make her hair whip back and forth. "No, ick. Chocolate chip?"

"Let's go."

After he presented her with her cone and they sat on the bench to eat, he cleared his throat.

"Maka, did you keep track of how long we were at the library?"

"Um-hm," she answered around her ice cream. "Two hours and twelve minutes."

Spirit flinched. The kid was smart, all right. Smart and observant.

He took a bite of his own cone. "I think, sweetie, that Mama might not like that we stayed there so long."

Maka paused and looked up. "Why not, Papa?"

"Well." He scratched the back of his head. "Mama thinks you should be outside more."

"Shyah, that's what I've been saying, like in a _forest,_ " Maka said. "I'd be outside _lots_ then."

"Right, right. Well, I was thinking that it might be better when we get home if you let Mama think we went walking to the fountain park, then to ice cream. We don't have to let her know we spent so much time in the dark library, okay? She'll feel better then."

Maka tilted her head and regarded her Papa while Spirit tried to keep his face pleasantly passive. Sweat rolled down one of the tendons of his neck and he could feel the ghost of lips tracing along behind it. He swallowed.

"Okay," Maka said, turning back to her treat. "I don't want Mama to worry."

Spirit let his breath out. "Good," he said. "That's good."

The finished their snack and walked the rest of the way home. Maka regaled him with the latest book she'd devoured at the library - something about cataracts? Or tesseracts? He wasn't sure. There was a giant brain, that much he knew. It reminded him of something.

With a shudder, he chased all thoughts of his creepy old partner from his head. Stein had been before Riyu's time, but even with a new partner, the scars and jitters lingered.

The door to their apartment banged open as Maka leveled her latest kick at it and Riyu was waiting just inside to scoop her into a hug. Another mother probably would have scolded her daughter, told her to act more ladylike. Not Riyu. Riyu was raising a warrior, and warriors knew how to kick doors in.

"What's on your face?" Maka's mother asked, running a thumb beneath her daughter's bottom lip. "Did Papa take you for ice cream at three o'clock?"

"Yeah," Maka said. "Don't be mad, Mama, I promise I'll still eat supper."

Riyu put her hands on her hips and slung a dish towel over her shoulder, a move that was deceptively domestic when you didn't know she could just as easily kill you with that same towel. "I certainly hope so, or else Papa's in big trouble." Her tone was teasing, the smile playing at her flower petal lips light, but when she turned her eyes on Spirit, there was a flicker of something else there.

She cleared her throat. "What did you two do this afternoon? Besides eat ice cream before supper?"

"The park," Spirit volunteered, painting on his easy smile and slouching against the breakfast bar.

Maka nodded. "The one with the fountains, and we walked around the city and it was sooooo hot, and we went to the library, too."

Riyu pulled the towel off her shoulder and went back to drying the glasses she'd been washing when they came in.

"The library," she repeated. Chestnut brown bangs fell over her eyes, hiding them from view. "Did you stay there long?"

Spirit swallowed again. Lips against his collarbone, a whisper in his ear, fingers on his chest.

Maka rocked back and forth on her heels and toes, her small body sensing the stillness in the room. "No, I just read a little book. We were outside lots after that."

The smallest tension went out of Riyu's shoulders and Spirit could breathe again.

"That sounds nice," Riyu said. "Why don't you go read some more before suppertime?"

"Okay!"

The pair of them watched their bouncy little meister-to-be make a beeline for her bedroom, followed by rustling and shifting books as she selected her pre-meal reading.

Riyu polished the last glass and put it away in the cupboard before turning her tired smile to Spirit. "You were gone a long time," she said. "I worried."

In one smooth movement, he wrapped his arms about her waist and drew her in close, reaching out to brush her soul. She wasn't his meister anymore, but the sensation was as familiar as ever. Something sounded slightly off in the chiming of their souls together. They both ignored it.

Spirit brushed his lips against her ear. "I was thinking," he said. "Of requesting time off for a family trip. Maka wants to see a real forest."

* * *

"That's a _bear,_ " Maka whispered, peering through binoculars to the river far below. "Like, a real bear! Can we go closer?"

"I don't think so," Riyu laughed from the picnic blanket they'd spread across the grass.

"Why not?" Maka looked to her mother. "You could take him, Mama!"

She shook her head. "My skills aren't for hunting bears, sweetling."

Maka's disappointment was short-lived as a brilliant blue jay swooped by, teasing her with his call. "I love the forest!" the little girl laughed as she sprinted after it.

Around the edge of the cabin, she ran headlong into her Papa, who scooped her up in one fluid motion. "Where's my Little Angel running off to?"

"Can we go on another hike down to the creek?" Maka pleaded. "And can I have another story? Please?"

Her Papa put her back down and she thought he'd refuse, that he'd make another excuse to spend time with Mama (they were spending so much time together on this trip and it was _boring,_ even if she did bring a dozen books to read). But instead, he smiled and took her by the hand, leading her down the path.

Forests were _amazing._ Papa had brought them to a California national park with towering sequoias and lots of fairy circles. In the morning, everything was misty and magical, just like a storybook. Walking on the undergrowth released a damp, resin-y smell that was undeniably green. There were birds of all kinds, and chipmunks, and bitty deer with black-lined tails that flicked their ears to and fro while they chewed. She'd read that there were wolves, too, but Mama and Papa wouldn't let her look for those.

As they walked down the well-worn path, stepping on stones to avoid the muddier areas, Papa started weaving a tale about wood sprites plagued by an evil witch who wanted to lure young children into the forest to eat their livers.

"And she raised an army of dead bears, just like that one you and Mama saw earlier, and they were all razor sharp teeth and hollowed out ribs. The biggest one of all had started going green with moss, and you could see his still heart right through his bones," Papa said as he balanced on a mushroom-covered log. "He loved to eat little girls especially, and pigtailed ones were his favorite!"

Maka giggled as another pair of hikers passed by them, looking positively horrified at the story her Papa told. Papa just gave them a wide grin and winked at her.

That was what she adored most about her Papa. He told her stories she wanted to hear, not sanitized bedtime fairy tales like people outside Death City told their kids to help them sleep at night. When you grow up alongside Lord Death, nothing about death is all that scary. Not really.

Well, maybe the actual dying part.

The creek burbled over the rocks just as it'd done when they'd visited before, but this time the sun shone at an angle through the trees that made the water sparkle like crystal. Maka laughed and ran along the edge, searching wildly for tiny trout and other fish. She wondered if bobcats hunted here, or baby bears.

Papa watched from a nearby rock, smiling as she tried to construct a fish hatchery out of long grass and sticks. When her muscles grew sore from digging and pulling, she soaked her bare feet in the water and he joined her.

With a yawn, she leaned against his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"You know Papa would do anything for you and Mama, don't you, Little Angel?" he murmured.

"You'd go to the moon and back," she said, sleep lilting her voice.

"That's right."

Maka yawned. "Lord Death knows you're the bravest, that's why he calls you to the school so often, huh?"

Papa paused in stroking her hair. "Yes, lovey. That's why."

"You and Mama, you both save lots of souls. You make the bad things go away and keep people safe."

"That's right."

The air was warm and sweet, wrapping Maka in a blanket that felt like home - the home in her heart, not the home in Death City. The home she shared wherever Papa and Mama were.

"You'll protect my soul," she mumbled, nodding. "Won't you?"

The water whispered at their feet.

"Yes I will," Spirit said at last. "Forever and ever."

Maka whispered. "Good."

The creek faded away into the dark, and a while later, Maka woke on the small bed she used in the cabin. The smell of sautéed noodle and egg floated through the air and drew her toward the sounds of soft laughter coming from the kitchen. Peeking around the corner, she spotted Papa with his arms wrapped around Mama from behind. They swayed slowly, circling, even as supper started to burn.

The warm glow in Maka's chest, the place where she knew her soul lived, grew bright. She believed that light would never go out.


	2. Soulbreak

The day Maka's mother left, the air was humid and sticky. The sun hung behind the haze, panting and grumbling at the streets below. All of Death City waited for the sky to split. It wouldn't.

Maka, unaware that her mother stayed tethered to their apartment by a thread, was determined, stomping her eleven-year-old body down the streets of the city. When she'd left, Mama had been quiet, staring through the wavering air outside the window like it could tell her the answers to everything. Papa - _Death Scythe_ \- had forgotten another counseling session, and Maka knew exactly where to find him. Fury sparked along every nerve in her body, practically making her ashy blonde hair stand on end. She grit her jaw and relished the heavy sound her boots made against the street.

Chupa Cabra's lights chased each other cheerily above her head, turning the slick stones in front of the building pink and purple. Maka had never wished to have the power to shatter glass with nothing but a look so strongly before. Her gloved hands clenched into fists.

The crash as the front door slammed into the hosts' stand was cathartic. She cracked her neck as she stalked past the stammering host further into the smoky club.

"W-what the..." the host managed as he got his bearings. "Spirit, man, I've told you a thousand times that your damn kid can't be in here!"

A hand wrapped around Maka's arm, halting her progress. Without hesitation, she brought her foot down hard on the host's insole and he yelped, releasing her. She hissed at him for good measure.

It didn't take long to find the mop of red hair she knew so well among the club's other patrons. He was swaying and smiling, unaware that doom donned in pigtails approached as he sipped his drink. A blonde sat on one side, and his arm was draped over a giggling, purple-haired beauty on the other. Their smiles didn't start to fade until Maka stood before the lot of them, shaking.

Death Scythe was last to notice her standing there. He hiccupped and struggled to focus, then his eyes went wide. As wide as piss-drunk eyes could go, anyhow. The glass dropped from his hand and the arm that had been dangling dangerously close to the purple-haired lady's boob disappeared from view.

"Lil' Angel," he slurred. "You... you should be in school."

"School's been over for hours." Maka forced the words through her tightened throat. He probably thought it was the alcohol making her appear to vibrate before him, but it wasn't. Though she tried to keep her angry shivers in check, they got away from her.

"Hours? But that's not... what time is..." With a lurch, he grabbed at the wrist of another nearby hostess, who yelped as he dragged her closer and took far too long to register the time. Once he did, he shot unsteadily to his feet, his coat hanging off one shoulder.

"Maka, we 'ave to go home, sweetie," he said, grappling with his clothes. "Mama will be worried."

Maka brought her fists down on the table, hard. The wood cracked beneath them.

"She knows where you are," she yelled. "Just like I knew exactly where to find you. She knows."

Death Scythe startled and tipped back onto the plush sofa, where his two companions stared at Maka, scandalized.

A terrible pain started in her chest, pushing her lungs out of its way as it clawed up her ribs. It made it very hard to breathe.

"Papa was jus' havin' drinks with some friends, precious, tha's-"

"Shut up," Maka said, far too aware of how hot this place was, how much the cigarette smoke bothered her nose, how it had gone very quiet. "You promised. After I saw you at that party, you promised. And you promised Mama, too."

Death Scythe's mouth worked, but nothing came out.

He had to say something. There had to be a reason, an excuse, something that would render all this a silly mistake. Something that would stop the cracking shards splintering inside her. One last chance. One more story.

The lights inside went green, and for just a second, she felt a cool breeze on her face and remembered the sound of singing leaves somewhere far above her head.

Spirit licked his lips.

"You gotta understan', baby," he said at last. "We were young, Mama an' me, so young, and Papa needs his friends to... to..."

It didn't matter what he said. Much as she wanted to believe everything could fit back together like a perfect puzzle, it was too late. Acid laced its way through her veins, coating her tongue and leaking, hot and burning, from her eyes.

"Don't come home," she said. "We don't want you there."

Before she could split apart right there on the floor sticky with spilled sake cocktails, she spun on her heel and bolted, crashing into the host and sending him reeling before making her way out the door and into the thick air of Death City.

Sobs forced themselves past her clenched teeth as she ran, her long-tailed coat whipping behind her. She'd felt like a real meister for the first time when Death Scythe had helped her pick it out. It swished when she spun and slashed the air with practice weapons, finding her balance.

The balance she relied on went out from under her as she turned into a side alley shortcut. Her boot caught on a jutting piece of pavement and she went sprawling to the ground, barely feeling her knees being scraped raw.

A howl she hadn't known she'd been holding tore out of her as she beat her palms against the ground. She hoped so hard, had wanted everything to be okay so badly. Death Scythe would come home on time, he'd smile and hold out his arm for Mama like he used to. They'd go to their appointment and everything would be fine.

But nothing was fine. It never would be again.

The sky growled along with her. She could feel it in her soul.

Her soul, which was cracking to pieces and falling to smash against the alley pavement. He hadn't protected it. One more promise, broken.

* * *

By the time Maka pushed open the apartment door, her hair was slicked to her skin with sweat and humidity. The black coat she loved stuck to her as she yanked in off and threw it to the ground. She'd be scolded and told to pick it up later, but for now, she didn't care at all.

"Mama, I'm home," she croaked. "I'm sorry if you were worried."

There was no answer.

"Mama?" Maka called again, following the light in the hall toward her parents' - her mother's - bedroom. As she got closer, she heard something heavy fall to the floor, followed by a muffled sob not unlike those she'd left in the alley not so long ago.

Her mother stooped on the ground in front of her closet, her back to Maka. A black suitcase, the one she used to travel for missions, lay on the floor in front of her. It had clearly fallen from high up in the closet.

Mama shoveled clothing and shoes into it like she was preparing to run for her life.

Maka might hope for stories to have happy ending, but she wasn't foolish. She'd knew enough about how plots tied together to understand what was happening.

In an instant, she was by her mother's side.

"No, Mama, no, you don't have to go. I already told him not to come home." She started grabbing at blouses and boots, throwing them back into the closet. "We can look for a new place together tomorrow if you don't want to stay here, it's okay."

Tears still streaked down her mother's face like she didn't even see Maka. Automatically she reached out for more things to stuff into the case.

The hole in Maka's chest throbbed and she gasped, rubbing the spot to ease the pain. She reached out to stay her mother's hands.

"We'll be okay, it'll be fine-"

"Stop it!" her mother yelled, startling Maka into stillness. More softly, she said, "Stop. I can't stay here. I need to go."

A flashing red light started at the edge of Maka's vision and she pushed it away. "Okay. Should we go stay in the visiting meister housing for now?"

"Maka." Mama yanked her fingers through her hair and pulled. "I'm going to go on a trip. I need to be away from Death City, you understand?"

The red light grew brighter.

"I'll go pack my bag, then," she said, standing stiffly to run to her room and begin packing her purple duffle bag with the same ferocity she'd just witnessed.

It wasn't until she heard footsteps rush past her room that the red filled her vision completely and she understood the whispers she'd been trying to keep quiet.

Mama almost had her hand on the front door when Maka caught her by the wrist. She didn't have the energy left to keep up the pretense as she had with Death Scythe. The tears came again, hard and fast.

"Don't," she sobbed. "I'll make it better, I promise. Take me with you." She buried her face in her mother's shirt, twisting her fingers into the cloth and letting her body wrack itself raw.

Slowly, Mama pried her fingers loose and put space between them, going to her knees. Her hazel eyes were reddened, but calm.

"I need you to be a big girl," Mama said. "You're a meister now, and you'll be okay. Your Papa will be home soon."

"He's not my Papa!" Maka tried to wrench her hands away, but Mama held firm.

"I'll write to you all the time," Mama said.

"No!"

"Be brave. I love you." Mama pressed a kiss to her forehead and stood.

Her mother picked up the black suitcase, ran a hand over one of Maka's pigtails, then opened the door and slipped through.

Maka thought she heard her say, "You'll understand someday," but she couldn't be sure. Buzzing filled her ears as she sank to her knees in the middle of the floor next to her coat.

Hours later, Death Scythe did come home. Maka still lay where she'd fallen, curled into herself and staring at the wall in front of her through swollen, half-lidded eyes.

She woke in her bed in the early morning hours and couldn't remember if she'd gone to bed or if her sham of a father had carried her there. It didn't matter. She slipped into new clothes and grabbed the bag she'd packed earlier. Just before she crept through the front door, she picked the long-tailed black coat up off the ground and pulled it on.

The dawn air still stuck to her, but as she walked toward DWMA, she felt a drop on her cheek. Seemed she'd need to find a place to stay sooner rather than later.

Lord Death had plenty of accommodations for new students. That would suit her just fine.

* * *

Sharing quarters with Sid and Black Star could wear holes in anyone's nerves. She needed a weapon partner, and she needed one _now_. A partner meant your own apartment. Maka would kill ninety-nine pre-kishin with her bare hands if it meant getting an apartment.

The chatter of the halls between classes was static, familiar background noise as she scanned the halls for potential matches. Harvar? He was okay, if a little too serious for her taste. Maybe one of the older partnerless EAT students would work with her long enough for her to hook them in with her skill. It couldn't be that hard to find a -

" _Ow._ "

Maka's shoulder stung with the sensation of another, even bonier shoulder colliding with it.

"I'm sorry," she said automatically.

"Good," said the other kid, rubbing his arm. "That _hurt._ "

"You could apologize too, you know," she snapped, patience gone. "It's polite."

The kid snorted, curling a lip to reveal the sharp points of his teeth. She paused to take stock of him, noting his rather abhorrent fashion choices - blue and orange paisley, really? - as well as his overall appearance, which she had to admit was... striking.

Brand new weapon striking, more accurately.

"Maybe you oughtta watch where you're going," he said. "Then you wouldn't need to-"

"Are you new here?" she interrupted.

The weapon took a step back, and Maka could practically feel guards going up around his soul. He sniffed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Maybe. What's it to you?"

She shrugged. "Nothing, I just... you're a weapon?"

He eyed her warily. "Yeah."

"What kind?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he sneered.

"Yes," she responded, nonplussed. "I would."

For a second, she caught a spark of shrewdness in him, like a cat sizing up a potential threat before unsheathing its claws, and she wondered if she misread him. Then it was gone, replaced with boredom and snark.

He rolled his shoulders. "Demon scythe."

The still-aching hole in her chest tightened. A scythe. Anger and curiosity twined in the hollow space where her soul was still piecing itself together. She almost turned away, but the ghost of an idea was starting to burn its way into her brain.

"Have you ever thought about becoming a Death Scythe?" she said, the name still sour on her tongue.

The boy leaned against the wall and watched passerby. "No. But it sounds pretty cool."

She joined him on the wall. "It is. It's the coolest thing you can be. Look, I'll be straight with you. I'm at the top of my class, and I want to make a name for myself. I'd like to do that by creating the most powerful Death Scythe in the history of the school, but in order to do that, I need a good partner."

The boy's red eyes slid over to look at her.

"A cool partner," she added. "Someone who isn't afraid to make a name for himself."

"I'm immune to flattery, you know," he said, but a slow smirk started in the corner of his mouth.

She held out a gloved hand. "I'm Maka Albarn."

He accepted her handshake. "Soul Eater. But look, Pigtails, I don't even know if I want a partner. I hear some weapons can wield themselves, and that sounds all right to me."

Maka sniffed and rolled back and forth on the balls and heels of her feet. There it was again - that guardedness around his soul. She'd have to play her cards carefully.

She scratched her nose and tried to look concerned. "Well, you _could_ go that way, I suppose. But as a scythe, it'll be practically impossible to wield yourself. You're made for a partner. Not like Justin Law."

"Justin who?" Soul said, arms crossed.

"Youngest Death Scythe ever created," she responded. "Did it all on his own, but he's a guillotine. Not exactly conducive to partnership, you know?"

Lazy eyes blinked slowly as they watched her. "Anyone ever tell you that you talk like a textbook?"

She waved a gloved hand, dismissing his comment. "Anyway, there are schools of thought that say even if you could wield yourself, which is rare, it can leave you vulnerable. You don't have anyone watching your back or balancing you out. It can be lonely."

His jaw tightened and Maka knew she was on dangerous ground.

"Haven't you ever..." She licked her lip. "Had someone looking out for you before?"

Soul pushed off the wall and started walking away, shoulders slouched. Gods damn it, she'd pushed too far. Should she let him go, or go after him?

Before she could decide, he stopped and turned his head to speak over his shoulder without looking at her. "If you really think you want to be my partner, meet me at that coffee place on the corner of Skull and Crossbones tomorrow morning before classes. I have something I need to show you first."

As he sauntered off without another word, Maka fell back against the wall with a huff. Even as she wondered if this kid - this _boy_ \- was worth the hassle, she already knew she'd meet him as he'd asked, if only to satisfy her curiosity.

It was more than that, though. More than just about showing up Spirit, too. At first glance, Soul seemed like the rude, jaded slacker type, but there was something more to his soul than he let on. Maka did love a challenge. She just hoped this challenge wouldn't leave her more broken than before.


	3. Trust

The cat with more magical power than a cat should be allowed to have had decided to live with them.

Maka had tried, more than once, to get her to leave and go back to that garish pumpkin she called a house, as well as that infuriating claw foot tub that had caused so many distractions early in their mission. No matter what she did - shooing, kicking, screaming, sweet talk, reverse psychology, refusal to buy fish for supper - the cat set up camp and gave absolutely no indication of leaving anytime soon.

Blair took a great deal of pleasure in tormenting Soul. At first, it made Maka want to ring both of their necks. As the days passed, however, it seemed more and more obvious that Soul was just as uncomfortable with their new living situation as she was. Blair's insistence on random nudity and wardrobe malfunctions had no effect on Maka, but Soul started to develop an eye twitch and kneejerk flail-into-the-fetal-position reaction every time he caught a glimpse of what might be bare flesh out of the corner of his eye.

No, Soul was not enjoying their houseguest's antics. Not at all, and that made the knot in Maka's belly loosen. She didn't think she'd see the day when a boy who liked girls would work so hard to avoid such a well-endowed one. Papa never would have...

Her hand slipped as she stirred the pancake batter, spattering it over the counter. She grabbed a towel to wipe it up.

But Soul wasn't Death Scythe, was he? He'd proved that.

She saw him through a haze of tears, standing beside Blair, ready to let Maka lose everything she'd worked for. Then he'd said the words that made it all crystal clear.

 _"Cool guys don't cheat on their partners."_

So lost was she in the memory that she didn't even hear Soul until he was right behind her.

"Pancakes? Sweet. Do we have any more of that passionfruit syrup stuff?" he said.

Maka cried out and whirled on him, covering the front of his sleep shirt in more batter. He blinked down at it, then up at her, scandalized.

"I'm sorry, I'll wash it," she said. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sneak up on...?! How is this my fault?"

She huffed and plopped the bowl and whisk back on the counter. "It doesn't matter. I said I'd wash it. And no, we don't have that fancy syrup. We don't have the allowance to be able to get stuff like that all the time."

Soul sighed and held up his hands. "Fine, Mrs. Butterworth it is. Do we have bacon at least?"

She shook her head. "We have eggs, though."

"Protein's protein," he mumbled, digging through the fridge for the carton. "Growing boys like meat, though."

A sing-song voice came around the corner before their buxom roommate made her morning's grand entrance. "Growing girls like meat, too, nyah!"

Blair wore a robe this morning, thankfully, and Maka shot her a narrow-eyed glance as the cat leaned over the counter, letting her ample cleavage spill out of her top. "And cats prefer fish, if we're making a shopping list."

"You can have more fish once you get yourself a job and start contributing," Maka said.

The woman vanished in a puff of purple smoke, reforming as a pouting cat. With a chastising swish of her tail, she turned and made her way out of the open window.

Maka looked over her shoulder to see Soul's head still buried in the fridge.

"She gone?" he asked.

"Yeah," Maka said, a smile pulling at her mouth. "Get out of there before you run up our bill."

Both their moods were considerably lighter after filling up on pancakes, and even after Soul's teasing about Sid's fate in class and the subsequent Maka-chops that followed, the day could still go either way. Which meant Maka was extra annoyed when Spirit strode through the doorway to act as their substitute. Thankfully, they weren't subjected to his nonsense for long before he directed them to go see Lord Death.

Of course, the day didn't fare much better after that. Remedial lessons? Risk of expulsion?

Would they even _survive_ the rest of the day?

* * *

All she wanted to do after their "lesson" with Stein was hole up in her room to lick her wounds, but Soul wouldn't let her. He convinced her to come up to the roof of their apartment building with him so they could get some fresh air and bandage each other up.

Unfortunately, most of Maka's injuries were to her pride.

She winced as Soul applied antiseptic to a cut above her eyebrow.

"Well if you'd stop twitching, it wouldn't hurt so much," he snapped, shoving the bottle and cloth at her. "Do it yourself if you're going to be like that."

Silently, she went through the familiar motions of cleaning her cuts, getting more and more lost in her own thoughts. A glance at Soul revealed him starting sulkily up at the stars in the clear desert sky, the frown on his face betraying his own internal chatter. Ever since she'd seen Stein's massive soul, she couldn't help but tune in to the others around her, and Soul's was abuzz, pinging around inside him like a pinball.

"I'm sorry again," she breathed. "I let you down today."

He shot her a sidelong glance and shrugged. "Lord Dickwad set us up against one of the greatest meisters in the world and we held our own for a while. I'd count that as a win."

Despite the slight against Lord Death, Maka snorted. "You know what I meant."

"Don't make me yell at you again for being stupid," he said, dangling his leg over the side of the roof where they sat. "It's fine to have a freakout, okay? It happens. You just can't let it... you can't let it take over."

He stared over the rooftops of the other buildings now, eyebrows knit together and teeth gritted. Soul never talked about his life before Shibushen and Maka rarely asked, but times like these made her wonder what he wasn't telling her. In the end, though, it didn't really matter who he was then. It mattered who he was now, and now he was her partner. A good partner who knew how to bring her out of her own head and who shielded her from a powerful foe without a moment's hesitation.

On a whim, she folded over the cloth she'd been using on her cuts and swiped gently at a scratch on his neck. He jerked away and covered it with his hand.

"Fucking _ow,_ Maka, warn a guy," he snapped.

"If you stopped twitching, it wouldn't hurt so much," she responded with a smirk.

In response, he relaxed just a little and let her continue cleaning his wound. He was strange, this boy who she'd made her flatmate and partner, but he was good, too. In his own bored, sardonic way. Deep in her chest, she felt the soft pulse of her own fragile soul, just recently starting to regain its strength and spark. She swallowed.

"Soul?" she said.

He grunted in response.

"I want you to know that I trust you."

"Don't make it weird, weirdo," he said, shifting where he sat and sucking air through his teeth as the antiseptic rubbed against his cut. Maka felt her blush rise, but after a minute, he added, "Me too."

They spent a few more minutes sitting in awkward silence and starting up at the grinning moon before Soul swung around and got up, declaring that he was turning in for the night. Maka nodded and gave him a wave as he walked back across the roof.

"Don't forget to get some rest," he called from the doorway that led back down to the apartments. "Aren't we leaving on assignment in a few days?"

"Yeah," she called back. "To Italy."

He grinned, teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Sweet. I love Italian food."

After he'd gone, she touched her hand to the center of her chest, feeling the fluttering bird that was her soul. She hoped it'd stay in one piece this time.


	4. Anticipation

Trust is a funny, finicky thing. It's never steady or easy, especially when it's been betrayed before. It can take years to build and a moment to destroy. Maka knew that better than anyone. Which made it all the more powerful that Soul never shattered her trust, not even across quibbles and self-doubt and madness. It made them strong, able to survive their partnership and reach across the stars.

It was how they'd ended up here, on the pitted surface of the mad moon, facing Crona as they dripped and descended into chaos. A giant block of tooth shifted and fell, sure to crush them if Black Star hadn't done his god-thing and tossed it away. They were prepared to fight. Ready to end it. Maka reached for her weapon's familiar soul, feeling its warmth.

And then it was too warm. Hot. _Too hot._

Soul was torn from her, the gears of their resonance jarring as they had when they were so much younger. But this wasn't Soul, and it wasn't her. As her scythe was wretched from her grasp, they yelled for one another, and Maka knew he'd never leave her, even if they couldn't fight as one.

Crona laughed. It was a sick, sad, wet sound, the opposite of mirth. The kid who'd swallowed the Kishin whole babbled about teeth and the end of resonance. Maka's mind raced. How could she fight without Soul?

A hand touched her shoulder.

"I understand," Spirit said. "You have to use me."

Maka blinked at her father, old grudges and slow forgiveness fighting inside her. "We can't. The resonance is all messed up."

Papa shook his head. "Doesn't matter. We share a stronger bond than that."

Their eyes met, green and blue. Then her Papa was a scythe in her hand, easy and light as anything in the world. Memories rushed in - hurt, sorrow, anger, love, joy, sadness. Mama's face flickered beside flashes of green. Her parents danced in a cabin kitchen. Her soul lay shattered in an alley. Papa read her stories with pretty pictures.

None of it mattered. Something older and deeper took hold and she knew what to do.

"How?" Crona screeched as their attacks fell. "This shouldn't be happening!"

 _Not resonance. The bond between parent and child._

The realization sent Crona spiraling, allowing Asura to take hold once again. Maka didn't hesitate to rain down her attacks, but Spirit stopped her, hands on her shoulders.

"We're not strong enough now," he said, managing a reassuring smile. "Our bond is powerful, but it's not resonance."

Somewhere far away, Soul called for her, having finally been released from Crona's thorns. Spirit's gaze shifted to the younger Death Scythe.

"Your mama and I were never strong enough, Maka," he said. "You have to do what we couldn't."

The salt of blood coated her mouth and tears burned her eyes. She nodded, backing away to find her Soul.

"Come on," she said to her partner, holding out her hand. The concern on his face melted away, replaced by his signature grin.

"Okay." He accepted her hand. "Let's show them what we've got."

As his flesh became steel, she knew he'd be by her side, even to the end.

Even as the universe around them went red, then black, then white.

* * *

Life after the moon went dark was never quite the same, but no one really expected it to be. Maka decided to stay on at Shibushen to complete her degree, even though Kid generously offered to give them a complete pass in thanks for their courage and service. Maka didn't pass on learning.

Soul and Black Star, on the other hand, gleefully accepted without hesitation.

Which meant she spent a lot of days wandering around campus and feeling an empty space at her side. Occasionally it was filled with Patty, or Kilik, or even Kid when he wanted a breather from constant Shinigami duty. She appreciated all of their company.

Sometimes, though, it was better to be alone.

The desert wind swept over the buildings, carrying the scent of jojoba and sand along with it as she leaned against the wall of the highest DWMA balcony. She'd spent some time in the library until the sun had swollen orange with late afternoon light, not quite ready to leave. Her hair whipped around her shoulders with the breeze. She was wearing it down more often these days, sometimes with a lacy clip. Mama had always hated wearing clips in her hair, and Maka found that she surprisingly cared much less about that fact than she used to.

She took a shaky breath and turned her eyes to the sky. High above her, suspended amid the stars, she saw the glistening outline of the black moon, its pale white eye barely managing to shine through like a silver coin beneath murky water. Somewhere up there, she pictured Crona suspended in dark jelly, a gentle smile on their face. She hoped whatever dreams they still had, if they had any at all, were beautiful.

It took a long time for her to be able to look away. It always did. Whatever Crona had done, she still thought of them as family, and the thought of leaving any member of her family imprisoned made her feel numb and sick.

One day, she'd break them out. The answer had to be out there somewhere.

As if sensing that she was about to leave, someone walked up beside her and matched her lean on the wall. She gave them a quick glance.

"I have to get home for supper," she said. The coldness that used to permeate her voice had lost its bite lately.

Spirit smiled. "I know. I just wanted to say hello before you left. You know, you could always join me for dinner sometimes."

Maka pushed herself up, the stone rough beneath her bare palms. She shrugged. "If you want. I'll see you later."

As she turned to walk away, Papa said, "I wish you wanted it, too."

She stopped. Clenched her fists. Looked back at him.

He was looking at her, too. "I noticed you stopped wearing Mama's ring."

Her fingers went to the empty space beneath the hollow of her throat where she used to wear the ring on a fine gold chain. She dropped her hand and swallowed.

An early bat flew overhead. Or perhaps it was a witch's messenger with news for Kid.

Maka shifted from foot to foot. "Things change."

"How much do they change?" asked Papa, standing up to his full height.

She sighed. "I can't forget what you did. You're not the only one who did wrong, but you still hurt her. And me, too."

Spirit dipped his head, contrite.

"And I'll get there someday, maybe," she said. "Not today, though."

She turned to walk away and made it a few steps before turning back again.

"Don't stop asking, though," she said softly.

Papa smiled, gentle and sad. "I won't."

Much as she used to hate Death City's twilights, they felt comfortable these days. She strolled along the streets, hands behind her back, and let her thoughts swirl in her head. The closer she got to home, the bigger the smile that played on her lips.

Blair pounced the moment she was in the door, wrapping her up in a pillowy-soft, perfumed hug.

"Maka-kitten is hoooooooome!" she cooed. "You're late, nyah! Dinner might've been ruined. Why no phone call?"

"I told you I'd start calling you again once you changed that ridiculous ringtone," Maka said, her voice muffled by copious amounts of purple hair.

The cat released her and put her manicured hands on her hips, cocking them to one side. "Oh hiss, Blair's ringtone is just fine, and you know she worries."

Maka shook her head as she hung her coat and bag on the hooks by the door. "Sorry. Got held up at the library. Dinner smells really good!"

It did. The aroma in the air brought to mind savory broth, noodles, and vegetables. If she had to hazard a guess, she'd say it was homemade pho.

"You didn't have to go to the trouble," Maka said.

"She didn't," came a voice from the kitchen. Soul walked into sight, drying his hands on a dish towel and smirking. He even wore his apron.

Maka gasped. "You're home early! I wasn't expecting you back until Thursday!"

The scythe shrugged. "Boring witch politics and stuff. Liz sent me back early because she said I was, and I quote, 'being a fucking drip.'"

The meister made a _tch_ sound in the back of her throat and went to sit at the breakfast bar. Blair shifted into cat form and jumped up to crawl on her shoulder and drape herself around Maka's neck, purring.

Dinner conversation was easy as ever. Asking about one another's week, whining about work and school woes, sharing their thoughts on the latest episode of "And The Death Scythe Spins." Maka could feel the warm glow inside her chest, and she cherished it. It'd been too long since she'd felt so at home. This home was made of desert and blood instead of water and forest, but she loved it all the same.

Watching Blair and Soul bicker about who would get the last bit of salmon clicked the feeling into place. This was her family. She'd had another one, once, long ago when she was young and fragile. Now she had a new one, built all by herself.

She helped clean up, drying the dishes that Soul handed her. He leaned over and bumped her hip with his.

"Hey, I'm playing at the coffee house tonight. Want to walk me there?" he said.

"Sure," she said, placing her glass in the rack. "I'll even stay and watch."

The barest flush of pink colored his cheeks. "You don't have to."

"I know. I'm doing it anyway, though."

The night, like the evening, was still warm, but cooling rapidly across the stone and sand of the city. Maka was glad Soul had decided to stay in their apartment, even though they weren't technically full partners anymore. Even though things were different, they were the same, too.

"You're playing in public a lot more these days," she said.

He reached for her hand. "Yeah, I know. Only for people who really appreciate my music, though. Coffee house hipsters, mostly, but you know. You, too. Wouldn't be doing it at all if it weren't for you."

She squeezed his hand back and smiled. Without hesitation, she reached out for his soul and it responded, brushing back against hers with a whisper.

He cleared his throat. "So, I got a message from Wes today. He's going to be playing with an orchestra in Vegas in two weeks."

Maka halted and Soul looked back at her. He swallowed.

"D'you... want to go meet him?" he asked. "It's been a while, and I'm not sure we'll even be able to get in this late, but..."

"Yes," she said. "Of course!"

Soul's smile told her all she needed to know. It'd be the first time he'd seen his brother since he left for Shibushen. There was no question - they were going.

After all, he was family.

The scent of freshly ground coffee drifted through the open door ahead, and they walked toward the warm yellow light.


End file.
